Scaredy Cat

Mr. J always says that little people have the biggest feelings. He usually says this while I'm complaining about how someone is a big jerk face or why a stupid little comment made me eat baked goods. Lately he's been saying it because I become almost violently angry when he subjects me to horror films, his new "thing."

It all started with Havoc. Granted, not a horror film, but there is one scene specifically that evoked such a strong emotional response that I became incredibly angry. I later wondered if my anger was well-justified. Was it the screenwriter that had sewn together a passionate and evocative story line? The actors that were convincing? The disgust I felt about the specific act?

Who knows what it was, but it caused me to yell at my husband, which in turn caused him to stare at me in shock as my tone dripped arsenic and demons.

What kind of person watches this kind of movie for entertainment?

I most certainly eyed him suspiciously for the next few days.

Then there was The Human Centipede. There was no art to the storytelling, no award worthy acting, there was nothing but shock value delivered via Red Box. I cringed as I watched a sociopathic doctor create a human centipede by sewing three people together, mouth to anus.

"I can't believe you made me watch that piece of shit movie."

"We should watch it again."

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I feel stupid for having watched it. I think I literally died a little inside."

Tonight?

Hostel.

For the love of fucking Pete.

I'm not made for this.